


What is the cost of lies?

by borislegasov



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuties, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Valoris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25015642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borislegasov/pseuds/borislegasov
Summary: Valery realises he has been lying to himself, and to Boris too. What is the cost of lies? What is the cost of the truth? Which is a more severe debt to pay?
Relationships: Valery Legasov & Boris Shcherbina, Valery Legasov/Boris Shcherbina
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38





	1. The Cost of Lies

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction. Though it's based in the same time that the Chernobyl disaster occurred, the characters I write in this story are based off of Craig Mazin's interpretation of Valery and Boris, and is meant as no disrespect to those who made the ultimate sacrifice. 
> 
> This is going to be a slow burn, and eventually will morph into something more... intense.
> 
> Please note: I don't have an editor so any mistakes are my own.

Valery awoke with a start, sitting up on the overly firm mattress. He pulled his blanket up with him and looked around the room, his chest heaving with startled breaths. His eyes, cloudy and misty, struggled to focus on his surroundings but given the noise outside the room, he could only decipher that he hadn’t strayed too far from the work site the previous night and had fallen asleep mid-work, which seemed to be occurring at a frightening frequency as of late. How he had gotten to bed he wasn’t too sure - his last memory was desperately trying to free his fingers of the agonising cramp that had swallowed them. He slipped free from his reverie upon hearing a booming noise from just outside the door.

The noise, predictably, came from Boris. Boris who didn’t seem to understand that sleep was rare for Valery and thus every second of it is cherished. His anger momentarily spiked and he sluggishly clambered out of bed with the intention of telling Boris to quieten down, but was stopped in his tracks by the sound of Boris’ unusually soft tone; a stark contrast to the one he was awoken by. Valery rested his glasses on the bridge of his nose, pushing them up slightly as he advanced towards the ajar door. He didn’t open it, not yet, only leant towards it and attempted to listen. 

He listened to the tone, initially unable to decipher what Boris was saying. He frowned and leaned closer to the crack in the door, just managing to make out the rolled up sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt. Something inside of Valery stirred, but he pressed it down with fervor.

“You cannot expect- No! What I am saying-” Boris heaved an exasperated sigh. 

“No! I am telling you that he will not be doing it! The man is exhausted. This is the first time he has slept more than four hours in the last two weeks. You have to give him a break. He will still be here tomorrow. The impending meltdown has been halted in its tracks, and you know that. So the purpose to pull Comrade Legasov away from his rest is…” Valery frowned deeply at Boris’ sudden pause. 

“Non-existent.” He finally concluded, causing Valery’s brow to furrow in puzzlement. 

He was confused. Boris was telling this person, whomever it was, to leave him to rest? A stark contrast to the man he believed he knew so well. He and Boris had been working together for a while, oftentimes for twenty-four hours a day. It wasn’t unusual for them to spend every waking moment together, and the times they did spend apart physically were often spent being communicated with in a different manner - via telephone, or a message runner. He thought that he had gotten a good grip on the man that he was working with, but this genuinely surprised him. His heart pounded with the realisation at the appearance of this gentle, kind man before him; though he suspected that if Boris ever knew he was earwigging on this conversation, he would be in deep trouble because he suspected that he was never supposed to know about this softer side. 

“I’m glad you see what I’m saying. Yes.” Boris seemed to relax at the apparent acceptance. He began to pace, carrying the phone in his large hand.

“I will keep him away from the site for a couple of days. I appreciate that the timing is inconvenient at best, but you have to understand. He is running on fumes. I took him to my private lodgings when he passed out at the site last night. I felt it best, so that he could rest and be properly prepared for the meeting. So I would prefer if we weren’t disturbed again. I won’t be so kind the next time I am called in the early morning when you know what is going on.” 

He finished speaking with a sharp undertone to his words. The comrade on the other end of the line would certainly know that he wasn’t playing around. Valery’s spine tingled at the tone of voice used and the fact that it was used in a protective manner. A protective manner over him, no less. 

Valery was stunned at the sudden revelation. He was at Boris’ private lodgings? How did he get there? He searched his memories for the journey between Chernobyl and Boris’ lodgings, but drew up empty. He didn’t recall being moved, let alone travelling across the city. The puzzlement was intense, and he completely zoned out whilst thinking about it.

Before he could come back to his senses autonomously, Boris’ voice broke through the silence.

“Valera, get out here.” 

A crease furrowed at his brow at the way Boris spoke his name. His heart twanged painfully at it, and his mind fed upon it - replaying it over, and over again. Since when did Boris call him anything other than Legasov? Perhaps a Valery here and there when he was trying to really get through to him. But Boris was no nonsense, thoroughly aligned to the rules to boot. But yet… He’d just called him Valera. His heart swelled painfully as he opened the door, coming face to face with the man in question. He looked positively rumpled, flustered even. He had beads of sweat on his forehead, the wrinkles pronounced as if he’d been frowning intensely (that wasn’t surprising), and his shirt was unbuttoned down to the beginnings of his chest hair. He looked so out of character. Valery had to take a moment just to absorb the sight of the older man. 

Only at the sound of Boris clearing his throat did Valery look up from his chest. 

“Sorry- about that, Boris,” Valery began, his cheeks flaming hot and his embarrassment searing through every ounce of his being. “I was asleep, I swear, but then I heard you shouting at someone over the phone… and it startled me awake, and I wanted to know if something was wrong-” 

“You didn’t have to hide in the bedroom, though, Legasov.” Boris responded, a mild edge to his voice. 

“I didn’t think it appropriate to make myself known whilst you were on the phone. I am often an unwelcome distraction when you’re on the phone and, as you know, I often butt in where I’m not needed.” He responded slowly, though his voice trembled, matching the mild shaking of his hands.

“You’re always needed, Valera.” Boris’ tone was stern, intense and unwavering. 

Valery’s cheeks flushed, a deep searing burn. “I-” he began to say but found himself lost for words. What is he supposed to say to that? Nothing, he supposed. Boris probably meant that Valery was important to the cleanup operation, or that he was the only one who truly understood the dangers of a nuclear reactor. 

“I should probably go and dress”, he remarked smoothly. He had noticed that at some point of the night his outer clothes had been removed, leaving only his undershirt and underwear as he slept. Had he noticed this sooner and not been so preoccupied with the thoroughly frustrating man next door, he wouldn’t have presented himself in such a state of undress. 

He heard nothing from Boris as he departed from the room, and made no fuss as he changed back into his shirt and trousers. He noticed that the trousers slipped over his hips a little easier than they normally did, and as soon as he’d buttoned them up they slipped down half an inch. He frowned harshly at this realisation and reached over to rummage for a belt. He didn’t have one here, since these weren’t his lodgings, and he knew that not having a belt would cause issues for him when he tried to do even the most menial of tasks such as making a cup of tea, or pacing the room as he often did. He leant into the small clothes cupboard by the window and discovered a pair of black braces which looked relatively untouched. He absently wondered if Boris would mind terribly if he were to borrow them without asking, but couldn’t find the courage in his heart to go out and enquire with him. So, he clipped them to his trousers and over his shoulder, feeling the security of them against his rounded stomach. He sighed, then, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Seconds passed.  
Minutes passed.  
Minutes more, more, more...

Valery had been left alone with his thoughts for too long. Though he had only been gone a mere twenty five minutes, he had managed to go through an entire plethora of thoughts, feelings and emotions and came up with one realisation: he had been lying to himself. He had been lying to himself about the deepest desires of his heart, the treacherous feelings in his soul, and his ambling wonderings. It suddenly made sense to him why it felt good to hear Boris say his name, and why it felt so wonderful to have Boris sticking up for him and caring for him in such a way. It became apparent to him why he cared so much when Boris was mad at him, or why he felt like crawling up inside himself when he had been yelled at. It all made sense, but didn’t at the same time. Valery had studied nuclear physics for years, and even taught, but this confused the living daylights out of him. He couldn’t wrap his head around it, but he knew that he had been lying to himself. 

Ever since he met Boris Shcherbina.


	2. Boris' Vulnerability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boris shows his softer side, abandoning the hard exterior he has fought to create. It comes crumbling down around him and he's happy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so long to get out, but I hope you enjoy it!

It took Valery what felt like an eternity to pluck up the courage to leave the relative safety of the room - though wherever his overactive mind was, one could guarantee that safety wasn’t also present. In his many years of experience, his brain and comfort were antonymous to one another. He had gotten carried away and totally taken by his revelation, and just needed to catch his breath before he could face Boris again and before he fell victim once more to the irrevocable skill that Boris had to make him disclose elements of his life that he seldom wished to share with others. Many a time he had spoken to Boris and the discussion had resulted in Valery oversharing; though on reflection it seemed that every instance of him doing so was a direct result of Boris’ persistence. And who was Valery to argue with a man like Boris? It was neither wise or astute, and he had quickly learnt that it was eventually fruitless. 

Deep down, Valery knew that this realisation had occurred to him so suddenly simply because his brain had been given the opportunity to consider something other than nuclear reactivity, graphite and radiation. He had taken a mere single night away from his work and all hell had broken loose in his mind and left him questioning every single thing that he thought he knew and understood. He knew, one way or another, that he needed to get back into his work, lest the thoughts fester and become unbearable. 

He stood up from the edge of the mattress, his body protesting the movement. Though still plump (and acutely aware of it too), his body was beginning to change in ways he never imagined for himself, the strength of the radiation taking its toll on him. Thankfully - though it oftentimes felt like a curse - his body had not changed its physicalities since tending to reactor four. He had remained the same weight he was when he first started, though he mostly attributed that to lack of sleep and bad food; and the inevitable half a bottle of vodka that Boris would shove at him at the end of the day. His ailments were primarily within. Though his joints were already fickle beforehand, they were particularly cruel to him whenever he tried to stand after a prolonged amount of time or lay down in the evening. It often felt like his body wanted to fold in on itself lest his joints and muscles be overly stressed and forced into movement; and some days, he wished that he could fold in on himself and disappear from the world.

But then, would Boris miss him? 

The idea of making Boris sad, stressed or lonely propelled Valery into full movement. Before he could think twice (again), he opened the door fully and slipped into the main room. A quick sweep of the room found that Boris had in fact left. He hadn’t heard Boris talking on the phone, nor had he excused himself from the room either; which left him wondering whether Valery had somehow made Boris uncomfortable and thus rendered it impossible to be in the same room as him. He decided that to muse was unwise, and so progressed into the room, attempting to get his bearings. Boris’ house was entirely new to him and he felt a little lost, but the change in surroundings was infinitely refreshing and much needed.

His documents from the day before were there, having been moved from his usual working table at Chernobyl to here, but were now stacked surprisingly neatly but seemed crumpled at the edges - as if Boris’ ponderous hands had flicked through the notes. He smiled affectionately as he imagined it; his mind filling with endless pictures of Boris frowning at the papers, grumbling at their nonsense, thumbing through them eagerly hoping to decipher something. The thought made him smile more than he had in weeks, and he felt the skin of his cheeks stretching at the unfamiliarity of the movement. 

He knew that, deep down, Boris was insecure about his intelligence and often thought he was simply stupid. It didn’t help that he probably had Valery’s voice in his head constantly telling him that he’s just some career partyman; but he hoped that now they had spent some time together that Boris’ opinion of himself had changed. Valery had expressed his surprise on numerous occasions (though regrettably never tactful), that Boris understood the inner workings of an RBMK reactor and managed to follow along as he mapped out the seemingly endless faults within one. He understood the process of fission and had taken very quickly to the scientific jargon that Valery was constantly flinging at him. He had been an integral part to the entire process of rescuing Chernobyl from impending doom, and he wished he could show him as much.

Picking up a pen that lay nearby, he began to scribble over the previous notes from the previous night. It was clear, from his notes alone, that he had needed some rest. A lot of his calculations simply didn’t make sense, and a lot of the written elements of his notes were constructed of absolute gibberish. He huffed a laugh at himself, correcting them with haste, chastising himself for allowing his attention to detail to fall. These errors could have meant the difference between the reactors being repaired properly or being botched and further jeopordising the safety of the people.

He continued to scold himself for much of the day, but eventually his focus faded into sheer concern as the hours rolled by without Boris’ return. He had made himself as comfortable as he could in Boris’ residence and had refrained from wandering - he hated the idea of breaching his privacy, and made sure that he kept his head down for the day; but as his worry increased, his concentration decreased. He was unsure how much time had passed and so couldn’t accurately gauge the appropriate level of anxiety but given the events of the day and his apparent feelings for him, it shot right through the roof. Propelled by the anxiety and the panicked rhythm of his heart, he walked over to the phone and picked it up in one uncharacteristically smooth movement. 

“Hello? Comrade Pikalov?” he spoke boldly, though he felt anything but. 

“Comrade Legasov,” came the abrupt reply. 

“Do you happen to know where Comrade Shcherbina is?” 

“Yes, he has been with me for a substantial amount of the day. We were working out quantities of men that we would require to further the cleanup operation and-” 

He hesitated for only a beat before stopping Pikalov in his tracks.

“Okay, so where is he now?” 

Pikalov, to Valery’s surprise, exhaled a genuine laugh. 

“He’s heading back to you now, Comrade Legasov. He should be with you shortly. Please don’t worry,” his tone had softened suddenly.

“Oh- I wasn’t- I-” Valery stammered, attempting to conjure an excuse. 

“To lie to me is ineffective, Valery,” came the reply, before the line went dead. 

He slowly lowered the phone to the base unit with a click, staring at it as if he’d just realised that there was an explosive device attached to it. His brow furrowed sharply, and his mouth hung open in sheer surprise. Pikalov had obviously detected the worry right from the start - but perhaps he thought of it merely as Valery being concerned for his Comrade? 

He didn’t have much time to consider the subliminal message behind Pikalov’s words however as before long the door clicked open and Boris strode in, heaving a frustrated sigh. 

Valery took Boris in all at once, with a rapidity he was unaware of - he processed the way his coat fell down beyond his knees, the way his trousers flared slightly at the bottom, the way his once shined shoes were now entirely dull. He registered that his shirt wasn’t done up as high up as it normally would be (a classic indicator of stress, Valery had learned), and was revealing a small portion of the uppermost patch of chest hair, how his hair was thoroughly dishevelled having fallen victim to Boris angrily running his hands through it. He noticed, finally, the absence of stubble on his face which illuminated his smile tenfold. 

“Ah, Valery!” he said in stark surprise, allowing the door to slam behind him as he advanced across the room, closing the gap between the both of them and towering above him, effectively whipping Valery from his reverie.

He looked up at him shyly, though eventually schooled his expression to impassiveness; as if he was greeting just another Comrade. Though the beating in Valery’s heart told him otherwise. 

“How was it with Pikalov?” Valery questioned as he took a step back. 

Boris merely followed, discarding his coat on a nearby chair as he did so.

“It was okay. Of course, he doesn’t want his men getting anymore affected by the radiation than they already have been and so insists on doing everything himself.” 

Valery opened his mouth to argue, but Boris silenced him with a raised hand. 

“I know Valera, I know. I successfully talked him down from desiring to do everything himself, however, and we are going to organise a team of volunteers to finish the cleanup operation. We have tried everything in our power, and the proverbial inferno within the reactor continues burning and, I told him, unless we get together a group of men we are never going to see the end of this catastrophe. Of course, I had to put it into a rather harsh perspective for him - either we send in some of our men or we risk the entire population of the state. That, of course, seemed to silence him a bit. Then he agreed. As simple as that.” Boris’ voice remained strong and confident throughout, never once wavering. 

“I see. You definitely did the right thing.” Valery responded lightly. “I’m glad you managed to get him to come round to the idea, even if it was hesitantly.” 

Boris huffed a grunt of agreeance, slipping off his shoes in a smooth movement and discarding them. 

“I hope you’ve made yourself some tea today, Valera. I notice your sheets are strewn across my table, even though you heard the very phone call in which I asked for you to be granted some time off.”

Valery could only focus on one thing from the entire sentence: that Boris had, once again, called him Valera. His heart swelled with acknowledgment of the affectionate use of his name and wondered what he meant by it - if anything. Valery allowed himself an indulgent few breaths, imagining Boris saying his name out of affection, perhaps even love.

“Valery? I’m talking to you…” he probed, his eyebrows raised sharply. 

“Right! Yes, sorry. I came out of the- the room, and you weren’t here- and I didn’t want to go wandering round your house uninvited, so I thought- I would keep myself busy the only way I really know how. I didn’t do much but correct my blunders from the night before…” Valery babbled nonsensically.

“I see. I apologise for leaving you without telling you first, Valera. I thought it best to give you some space, considering…” he replied smoothly, the gruff edges of his voice falling to a gentle whisper, the soothing tones within enveloping Valery in comfort. 

“Oh. Yes. Erm,” Valery stammered. He lifted a hand to his head and ran it through his hair, tugging it through sharply. 

“You seemed a bit… out of sorts.” Boris observed, raising his brows. “Are you feeling better now? Do you wish to talk about it?” 

Boris advanced to the table where Valery had previously sat, and gestured to a seat across the table from where he had just perched himself. Valery obliged silently, crossing the room and hesitating none in reoccupying his seat. His joints were unforgiving at best and had protested profusely at him remaining stood up for some time. 

“Talk to me, Valera, tell me what’s on your mind.” 

He was taken aback by the softness in Boris’ voice. Though he hadn’t known him long, he had yet to hear his voice sound so mellow, tender and supple. It had lost the gravelly quality that he usually fixated upon and had acquired a tone so gentle it could be mistaken for pure affection towards a loved one. It was laced and dripping with honey, oozing from his vocal chords and filling his ears with melodic tones. His voice was like pure sugar, sweeter than anything he had ever had the privilege to taste, and yet so unique. He would never expect such a sweet voice to come from such a burly, powerful, imposing man. It was rather polarising and puzzled Valery to boot. 

Boris had obviously taken Valery’s silence for stubborn refusal, and opened his mouth to speak before closing it again a mere second later. He inhaled deeply, and then began to speak.

“Very well, Valery. I’ll speak instead.” He took a brief pause to swallow, his ample adam's apple bobbing slowly. “Last night I felt a shift. I was watching you work tirelessly, and as the hours rolled by you became less and less cognitive. You opened yourself up to me in a way that I expect you don’t do to many people. You let me in, and it was unexpected. You let me see a side to you that I never would’ve thought you had - you were timid, vulnerable, and exhausted. You had only ever let me see the stoic side of you, and it was a surprise to see you so differently. But it wasn’t a bad thing. In fact, it was quite the opposite. It made me realise just how hard you work and how little you rest. I had read your file when we first began working together but underestimated just how persistent you are with a job until it’s done, and seeing you falling apart at the seams brought that to reality. I knew I had to do something for you. I may sound like an absolute asshole when I say this, but I don’t often do things for other people. But something about you… something about seeing you that way made me need to do something. Anything. You were beginning to pass out where you sat, and for a moment I let it happen. I let it happen because I felt powerless, like nothing I could do would align to what you deserve. But then… it occurred to me that perhaps all you needed was to step away for a while.” 

Boris paused to reach across the table to grab the discarded bottle of vodka from the previous night, taking a hefty swig before placing it back onto the table with a satisfactory thunk. Valery stared, seemingly dumbfounded, at him. He watched his every movement as if his life depended on it. Though his confidence wavered slightly at the reaction, Boris continued.

“Things accelerated quickly from there. I put in a few calls and arranged transportation. Before I knew it, I was telling my driver to go to my house, and to help me move you without disturbing you. I resisted shouting orders like I normally do when people are being slow or don’t understand what I want. I didn’t want to wake you. I watched you sleep for a moment as we travelled, but my own feelings became too much and I looked away, watching the desolate wasteland around us grow into something that resembled an occupied city. When we arrived at my house I helped you inside and straight to my bedroom. You fell asleep before I could remove your outerwear, but you were so far gone that you didn’t feel me removing it anyway. It occurred to me that I had done the right thing by bringing you here. You needed rest. Even as you slept your vulnerability showed through, and you looked so… sad.” 

Boris paused, gathering his thoughts. He was skirting around the point of this ever lengthening speech, and he knew he needed to put both of them out of their misery. He noted that Valery was looking at him like a deer caught in headlights, though his eyes seemed to hold tears. He braced his palms on the table and leant forward, closing the gap between them minimally. 

“I knew I couldn’t remain there all night, so I left and went to lay on the sofa. I didn’t sleep, nor did I attempt to, as I was being thoroughly ravaged by my thoughts. I was thinking about you, Valera, and everything was beginning to make sense. Why I had been opposed to you as soon as I met you, why I had been reluctant to work with you, why I had wanted you off the clean up project as soon as possible… Because I was attracted to you, and it scared me. It terrified me, Valera,” Boris admitted with a sharp laugh. “It scared me more than this load of shit ever will. I realised that a part of me had experienced instant attraction to a man. My Comrade. My colleague. It scared me, not because of what would happen to me if anyone found out. But what would happen to me if you found out. It became apparent, rather quickly actually, that losing you would be the worst thing to happen to me. So I behaved harshly towards you to try and distance myself from the growing feelings. I thought if I made you resent me, it would be easier to ignore. But… as it happened, you didn’t wind up resenting me.” 

He looked up at Valery, who now had tears brimming his reddened eyes. 

“Quite the opposite,” Valery croaked, his voice breaking through the silence. 

"Actually," he continued. "The exact opposite of resentment."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love ending my chapters on a sort of cliff hanger, where you can kind of anticipate where it's going next but I don't quite give it away yet. I hope you like it, too. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your positive feedback on the last chapter. Every kudos made me smile, and every comment made me so happy. Thank you, thank you, thank you, you wonderful people!


	3. Whiplash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valery and Boris get into an argument over what's right by the State and what's right according to their hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go... as the chapter title suggests this one is a bit all over the place! I hope my writing is okay, though, and that you enjoy your reading experience.

Boris couldn’t quite believe his ears. He wasn’t sure whether he was understanding Valery correctly or whether he was letting his heart rule his head which therefore forced him to hear what he wanted to hear. The implication that Valery felt the same way made his heart lurch, an emotion he wasn’t entirely accustomed to. He stood swiftly, nudging the table harshly with his knee as he stood. Though the pain was intense, he continued in his movement and crossed the space between the two of them, stopping when he stood before Valery. He tilted his head upwards, meeting Boris’ gaze. 

“Quite the opposite,” Boris repeated smoothly, masking his disbelief with ease.

He was in an emotional turmoil. He had this beautiful, handsome, brilliant, infuriating man in front of him - a man who normally he would pursue without a second thought. But he felt a sting in his heart, a wariness he couldn’t quite eliminate. He had noticed that their moves had been followed precisely whilst in Chernobyl with no conversation truly private and no intentions unknown. Though at his private residence for now, he knew all too well that they would have to return back to their duties soon which would alter everything. He couldn’t well pursue a man whilst working on the largest nuclear plant disaster in history, could he? Not whilst under the watchful eyes of KGB agents, all eager to report to their boss in order to progress through the Party ranks. They would be quick to inform every single happening between the two and that would jepordise Valery’s career, future, and even his life if they were found to be pursuing a romantic relationship.

Though it saddened him to no end that he had just had such a divine exchange with Valery, he knew that he had to listen to his mind and not his heart; but the two were battling, tearing each other to shreds and leaving him a mere shell of a man. If only Valery knew what he was going through - but perhaps it was better he didn’t. He wasn’t sure whether to proceed with the conversation as it was going or whether to do a sharp U-turn and pull it back so as to save both their dignities and their pre-existing friendship. He was going through the motions with such vigour that he was convinced he would end up with some form of mental whiplash. His heart was pulling him this way and that, and his mind was tugging him every which way all at the same time. He was filled with anguish and seeing Valery’s soft expression just wasn’t helping him make a rational decision - it was making the proverbial walls around him crumble with ease.

He took a deep, trembling breath inwards and opened his mouth to speak. 

“Valera… Never a day goes by where you don’t surprise me,” he whispered. 

He raised a lightly trembling hand towards him, closing the already minimal gap between them. He spread his fingers, opening his palm before placing it softly against his cheek. His thumb immediately began to sweep lightly across his cheek; back and forth repetitively, the prickles of his stubble leaving him with goosebumps that quaked over the entire length of his arms and down his spine. Who knew a thumb could be so sensitive? Who knew a cheek could provoke such a reaction? Before long, he found himself lost in the movements, his eyes following his thumb as it swept slowly, tenderly and lovingly across his cheek. He felt the supple flesh beneath his thumb give way to his affections and could’ve sworn he had felt Valery leaning in to the touch. 

“Borja?” Valery whispered lightly, his voice crackling through the palpable tension. 

Boris was pulled sharply from his doting stupor, but didn’t remove his hand from Valery’s cheek, choosing instead to keep it firmly planted but entirely still.

“Valera I-” he began, his throat seemingly closing around his words, forbidding him to say anything. It seemed that his heart and mind were truly at war with one another.

Valery’s eyes hardened at Boris’ tone. He seemed hesitant all of a sudden, as if his carefully constructed walls were being built back up right in front of Valery’s eyes. His heart heaved painfully as he awaited for the older man to speak. In spite of his worry, he was still thoroughly enraptured by him, completely captivated by his understated beauty and the softness of his overall appearance. Yet, somewhere in his heart he felt like he was already losing him - he had gotten so close, but yet so far. Boris had, in no uncertain terms, admitted he had feelings for him. So what was the problem? 

He wished he was strong enough, somehow, to pull Boris into his arms and kiss him senseless. But he found himself rooted to the spot; perhaps anchored down by Boris’ hand on his cheek. He didn’t want to move away from such a beautiful touch after so long of dreaming about it. He didn’t want to take this moment for granted - he couldn’t. 

“But Valera- you understand, don’t you?” his tone was still undoubtedly soft but there was an edge. He was shutting down with alarming speed. 

“I… Truly don’t know what I am supposed to be understanding. None of what you said was particularly unclear, unless I missed something.” Valery bit back, his own shackles rising as his heart desired to protect itself.

“We can’t be together, Valery. There must be a part of you that knows that. There is more than a part of me that knows it. I’ve gone back and forth but-” 

Valery shrugged away from Boris’ touch, taking a step backwards from him. Boris slowly lowered his arm back to his side, jarred by the sudden loss of warmth. He was mildly stung by the sudden withdrawal, but understood it entirely. He had done a complete one-eighty on his previous heartfelt speech and was now probably sending his poor scientist into a tailspin! He watched as Valery gestured animatedly, pointing this way and that and huffing with exasperation. It seemed that his body was doing more talking than his mouth would allow; but he waited patiently, merely following every movement he made. 

“For God Sakes!” Valery erupted, his face flushing with anger. “Why did you bother telling me all of that then, if not to lead me on?!” He yelled, his voice echoing around the sparse room. 

“I-” Boris attempted to speak, but was promptly shut down.

“No! What was the point, Boris? What was your purpose? What did you hope to get from this? If not only to pick me up and then to kick me back down again! How could you be so cruel?” His eyebrows were knitted together in an intense furrow, the delicate wrinkles atop his forehead emphasised exponentially by his distress.

Boris watched, entirely entranced yet undeniably distraught. He listened to Valery ranting, watched his furious gestures, and felt his heart flailing in agony. He had caused this, when only a few minutes prior he had been making Valery presumably the happiest man in the world (just as he had himself). He had done this to him, but he knew it couldn’t be reversed. Ironically, he was doing this to protect Valery. He didn’t want to see his best friend, his soul mate, getting taken away from him because of his selfish desires. He couldn’t bear to watch it; knowing that the story would be twisted to make Valery look like the worst person in the world when in reality it was the exact opposite. If anyone was a poisonous ogre, it was Boris. He knew it, and yet he could do nothing to repair it. He was doing what had to be done to shield Valery from a fate worse than death.

“Oh, and now you’re quiet!” Valery shrieked, his voice cracking slightly due to the sheer volume it reached. 

Boris had never seen him like this. He had seen him angry at the Chernobyl commission completely failing the people of Pripyat, but he had never seen him this blood-boilingly angry before. However, he could see something else beneath that fiery rage. He was hurt. He could see the hurt tearing at his heart strings, tugging at his stomach, yanking his heart this way and that. If spending all day every day with Valery had taught him anything other than the science behind a nuclear reactor - it was how to read Valery Legasov. 

“I didn’t know you had- I didn’t expect you to have feelings for me! I didn’t know. I wanted to explain why I had been so cruel to you in the beginning…” he began to reason, but even as he spoke it felt remarkably feeble. 

Valery let out a spiteful, sharp laugh which caused Boris to recoil. 

“You don’t have to be horrible to someone to disguise your attraction! You could’ve just been friendly. Like I was with you! Was I ever cruel to you? Did I ever threaten to throw you from a helicopter?! Did I, or did I not save you from making the worst mistake of your life when you demanded to be flown over the open reactor core?”

Boris took a step closer to Valery. He merely looked up at him, watching him draw closer; not that Valery could make him out all too well through the tears that were pooling behind his large spectacles, which were already splotched with tears. His cheeks were red, flaming, patchy and on fire. He was angry at Boris for handling him like a yo-yo, yet even angrier at himself for being so open and raw without knowing the honest intentions of his words. He should’ve kept his feelings to himself, and held his vulnerabilities close to his chest - it had worked well for him so far. He hated that he was crying whilst he was angry, and cursed that it was one of his many flaws - whenever he was angry, he cried. 

“I brought you here because I needed you well rested, Legasov. I want you to work with me tomorrow, because we have a lot to catch up on. I need your head in this, otherwise it’s my nuts on the chopping block.” Boris had returned to the cold, bitter apparatchik that Valery knew and loathed. 

He scoffed with disdain at the older man, twirling on his heel and storming into the bedroom; feeling remarkably petulant as he did so. He knew he should stay there and talk it through, but he just needed to decompress. He felt nauseated at the familiar sight and remembered with startling clarity his thought patterns from mere hours ago, when things were simpler and much happier. When he felt hope, desire, passion and excitement. Now he felt nothing except anger and hurt. The one person he had let in since his youth had already screwed him over and nothing had ever really happened between them.

_ Valery _

He slammed the door behind him, silencing any protests Boris may be able to procure. He was livid - pure and simply livid, yet he knew there was something else tickling at the back of his mind: heartbreak. He wasn’t accustomed to heartbreak in any quantity, because he didn’t allow people close enough to him to get the chance to break his heart. Now that he had, he wasn’t sure he would ever do it again. He collapsed on the bed in an overheated heap, pulling the blankets up and around him, cozying himself in as if building a thin barrier against the world. He felt the warmth surrounding him and found his anger dissipating, which paved the way for the heartbreak to come through full force. He succumbed to it, tears brimming over his eyes and collapsing down his cheeks. 

“God sakes,” he mumbled to himself, deflated. 

He didn’t like giving up without finding a resolution he was happy with, but he knew that he wasn’t quite ready to pursue a different outcome. For now, he needed to simply  _ feel _ and just decompartmentalise everything that had just happened.

_ Boris _

Boris watched dumbfoundedly as Valery stormed away from him, slamming the door behind him, leaving glassware wobbling in protest of the vibrations. He felt simply forlorn. He hadn’t felt this way since he was last entangled in a complicated relationship with another male decades ago; he very rarely opened himself up to other people because he somehow always messed it up when it was just getting good - and it seemed that now was no different, even though he recognised that his intentions were good. He hated himself for treating Valery this way and was bubbling over with anguish. He didn’t deserve to be treated this way; he deserved nothing but love, tenderness and happiness - and Boris had just shut every single door leading the way to those things. With a grumble, he poured himself a glass of Vodka but left it atop the table untouched. It was probably a good idea - the last thing he needed was his sense of awareness lowered in a situation as critical as this. His eyes lifted to the door, staring at it, expecting some form of miracle to occur. He wanted more than anything for Valery to come out; reddened eyes softened, blotchy tear-stained cheeks gone, the soft toothy smile on his face… As if nothing had ever happened. 

Time passed at an agonisingly slow rate, but his mind continued to race. He flipped from believing it was the right thing to do, to simply knowing it was the wrong thing to do. He felt like he was being tugged this way and that, and he just wished for some mercy or a sign to be presented to him which would allow him to find the solution. He stared vacantly out of the window as clouds rolled by, heavy and burdened with rain. The sun fought with the clouds, attempting to shine down on him, casting a dusty glow in the room. He watched it as it came and went, repeatedly bathing him in a gentle warmth, filling his mind with a vague comfort.

As more time passed, his reasoning for keeping Valery at a distance seemed meagre; they seemed inordinately trivial compared to the contentment they gave one another, even in such adverse times. The worry seemed vacant when he compared it to the joy the scientist gave him. He was attuned to the idea that pursuing Valery wasn’t a good idea: he could risk Valery’s life, or his own. He could lose his Party status, his job, his future, his prospects, his home, his wealth… He could lose everything. But somehow, none of that felt like it mattered anymore. 

He had made a terrible mistake.

It became as clear as day to him in that moment that he had made an abhorrent mistake. He had chased away the only person to have made him sincerely happy for years, and he had to undo it.

“What the fuck did I do?” He whispered to himself, anger bubbling up in the pit of his stomach, alighting his insides with a ruthless inferno. 

“Fuck! FUCK!” He yelled, stomping his feet loudly as he rose from the chair, crossing the room in a fluid movement. He rapped on the door sharply, intensely, looking up at the ceiling and muttering a silent plea to whomever may be listening.

“Valera, please,” Boris begged softly, knocking again. “Please open the door. I’m sorry,” 

There came a distinct sound from inside the room, and he felt his heart jump in anticipation. He could hear shuffling - the sheets on the bed ruffling. His mind momentarily wandered away from the topic at hand and imagined Valery tucked up under the sheets, comforting himself with their warmth. His heart swelled at the mental image of Valery snuggled up in bed, and wished that he could magic himself into the bed with him; so that he could hold him close to his chest, kiss his forehead and make everything right. His posture slackened as he daydreamed, but was tugged away from the reverie when the sounds behind the door abruptly ceased, leaving Boris to contend with total silence once more. 

“Please, Valera, I beg you. Please let me make this right. I’m a fool. I’m an old, stupid fool. I was trying to keep you safe, and I realise now that you really don’t need to be kept safe. You can do that all on your own. But- together, we are safe. I don’t make any sense, I know that, but I just want you to know that I made a huge mistake. I said all of the wrong things because I thought I was doing what was right. What was right by whom, I’m not sure. But I don’t want to lose you, Valera. I don’t. Please.” He had toppled into desperation now, his hand planted firmly against the door. 

His body hurt with the agony of not knowing whether Valery was okay. Whether he had stopped crying; whether his beautiful mind had become unburdened with despair. If his heart had been thoroughly destroyed by his stupid attempt at being a saviour. He needed to know whether he had thrown away the opportunity to be with the only person he wanted to grow old with.

“Valera,” the name fell from his lips in a choked cry. His throat was coarse, dry and painful. 

“Boris,” came a monotone reply from the other side of the door. “Are you leaning against the door right now?” 

Boris barked a bewildered laugh at the staggering randomness of such a question. 

“No. Just my hand is on it. Why?” He asked, his tone incredulous.

“I didn’t want to open the door and have you fall in. As funny as that would be.” Valery chuckled, the sound a melodic bliss to Boris’ ears.

His eyes widened as the door was opened. He hadn’t expected for even a second that Valery would heed his requests and allow him in, and he certainly hadn’t expected him to be cracking jokes - he had expected for the stubbornness to reign; he hadn’t anticipated that this would be so easy to set in motion. Valery stood before him, clearly having been curled up in bed - he had faint sheet crinkles on his cheek, his hair was thoroughly mussed, and when he took in his facial expression it seemed lighter, with an edge of determination he had only seen when he was trying to get his own way. 

“I’ve decided that I don’t care what you say, Boris. I don’t care whether you’re afraid that I’ll get carted off. I don’t care whether you’re worried I’ll lose my job. I really don’t care that you’re shouldering what people expect you to be. You will not push any of that on me.” He spoke with intensity, fire and bite behind his words. His expression was stern, yet filled with loving tenderness. Boris’ heart skipped as Valery advanced towards him, taking a couple of minute steps closer - as if he was somewhat frightened to get too close. He didn’t want to hurt Valery again, and he wished he could communicate that without sounding like a bumbling idiot. Before he could speak, however, the soft gravelly tone of his Valera had broken the silence once more.

“I don’t care that you’re scared. Perhaps being scared is the best thing that could ever happen. Maybe it shouldn’t be a reason to stop what is happening. Instead it should be a reason to pursue what is happening. Don’t you think?” He tilted his head quizzically, his eyes darting between Boris’ own. 

Boris answered by closing the gap between them, extending his arms to allow his hands to fall upon Valery’s waist. His hands gripped tightly at the supple flesh, pulling him against his body, immediately drowning in the warmth that their connection offered. His heart pounded almost painfully against his chest. He was closer than he had ever been (aside from the time in the helicopter where he had ended up holding Valery still so that he wouldn’t go flying again; which was a pure pleasure in itself - and ultimately had quickly become one of his all time favourite memories), and it was intoxicating to boot. He needed more of him beneath his fingers, and palmed at his hips before sliding his hands around his back. He rested them gently at the base of his back, feeling a slight dip at the base of his spine beneath his fingers, right above his voluptuous arse. His hands ached with the desire to slide down to said arse but resisted, deeming the situation not  _ quite _ there yet. 

“Valera… I…” 

_ Valery _

“I know, Borja,” he whispered. “I know.” He started intently upwards at Boris, gazing into his intense eyes with a tenderness he felt deep within his heart and desperately hoped Boris could see. 

“Please tell me you understand what I’m saying, Borja, it’s important that you do. I don’t want you to ever make me feel that way again.” His firmness had returned in his tone. He was determined to step away from being the shy Valery most people knew; he wanted to be the headstrong, determined man he knew he was.

Boris cleared his throat sharply. “I understand, and I agree, Valera.” 

Valery barely took a moment to process what Boris had just said - all he had heard was that Boris agreed with everything he said, and that was all he needed to hear. His mind was made up, and knowing that Boris would be with him every single step of the way made the decision delightfully easy to make. He melted into the touch of overheated hands on his hips, allowing his body to react in the way it had wanted to since the hands were placed there initially. There was a mildly sharp sting beneath the surface at the pressure being exerted upon his flesh, but he couldn’t find an ounce of energy for him to care. He had the hands upon him, and that’s what mattered.

He leant towards Boris, narrowing the gap between them significantly. He looked up at him with a smile upon his face, his cheeks now flushed with something other than hurt: desire. He rocked up onto his tiptoes (primarily necessary because Boris still had his ruddy shoes on) and reached up swiftly to clasp his hands on the back of his head, threading his fingers into Boris’ hair and tugging his head down to his own, pressing their foreheads together. Their noses collided lightly, but it went completely unnoticed as the electricity crackled between them. Their eyes fixated upon one another's, and they lost themselves in the moment, before Valery remembered what he had initially set out to do. 

“Borja, you have quickly become everything to me.” He whispered, his breath ghosting against the older mans’ face. 

He didn’t give him a chance to reply, instead, he closed the minimal gap still remaining and pressed his lips against Boris’ in a featherlight touch, their heat mingling immediately. His entire body trembled in anticipation of this moment, but it was better than he could’ve ever hoped it would be. Though delicate and merely testing the water to begin with, it was everything he had dreamed of. Boris’ lips felt warm, moist, and intensely powerful against his own. He used his hands to anchor their lips together tighter after a moment, intensifying the kiss tenfold. Boris’ lips parted against Valery’s, allowing the kiss to deepen exponentially. He succumbed to this new pleasure, his tongue sliding and entangling into the kiss passionately, their tongues brushing together. Boris’ hands slid further across Valery’s back, causing a shiver to ripple up his spine. He held him tightly, as if his entire life depended on it - and he could safely say he had never felt so wanted, so passionately desired and so… needed. He had never felt like his own existence was intrinsic to another person’s, but here being held in Boris’ arms, it felt like it was as necessary as breathing. He deepened the kiss as his hands ventured further, resting at the very top of the swell of his arse. He retaliated and pulled Boris’ head closer to him, tugging his hair between his trembling fingers, thus deepening the kiss. 

The two were completely and utterly absorbed in the kiss, yet all too soon (though in reality it had been a fair few minutes), the kiss was over. Boris slowly pulled away and looked at Valery square in the eyes. His face was flushed, heated and there were some small beads of sweat pooling on his brow - Valery suspected that he looked much the same. He couldn’t help but notice the way Boris’ pupils dilated, and his mind reeled with the idea that he had caused such a reaction from such a strong, composed figure. He wanted to unravel the older man, and had every desire to do so. He had daydreamed about it plentifully, and hoped that it would come to fruition. 

“Valera… I think we need to do some… talking,” he nodded suggestively towards the bedroom, quirking his eyebrow suggestively. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I originally planned for this to have another chapter delving into what happened after their declarations... But I'd much rather put that into a different fic, where I can do more with it. I want to keep the focus of this fic concise, so do keep your eyes open for the upcoming smutty goodness. Regardless, I hope you found it as captivating to read as I did whilst writing! Thank you wonderful bunch for your amazing comments on previous chapters; it really does mean a lot and certainly spurs me on to write. Much love!


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